Fade Into You
by thegoodnaysayer
Summary: As Simon's mind continues to deteriorate, he is forced to make the most painful decision of his life. (This fic follows a story I've begun to tell through my comics, which you can read on my Tumblr (trojan-rabbit; under the tag 'comic').
1. Chapter 1

Simon was alone. He stood in the darkness, the cold wind piercing him, and his hair whipping around his head. He blinked, trying to remember here he was; why he was standing there…but he couldn't. He glanced around him, and saw that the grass was covered with a thin blanket of snow, and was littered with dagger-like shards of ice.

Simon suddenly noticed something on his head. Confused, he reached up and felt the cold, familiar touch of metal: the crown. He didn't remember ever putting it on, though. As he brought his hand down, however, he noticed it was smeared with something red. Simon stared at his hand, then realized that it was blood.

"Wh-what is this?" he gasped. "What happened?!" Simon examined his body, trying to find where the blood came from, but he didn't seem to be wounded. He frantically looked around, but it was so dark that he couldn't see very far in front of him.

"H-hello?" Simon called out. "Is anyone there?" He walked forward, the ice crunching under his feet. He strained his eyes to see some clue as to where he was.

Suddenly, Simon heard a quiet voice. His heart lifted, and, relieved, he hurried toward the direction he heard the voice come from.

"Hello?" he said again. "Please, just tell me what—" He stopped suddenly when he saw that several of the pieces of ice around him were covered with blood. More drops of blood directed Simon's eyes in front of him where, a few yards away, he saw a figure lying on the ground. He ran forward, and as he drew nearer, he realized that the figure looked more and more familiar…

Simon let out a cry in surprise, and stared, horrified, at what was in front of him. Tears flooded his eyes.

"No, no, no… Oh, God, no…" he moaned. Shaking, he knelt down beside the figure, and saw a grey, bloodied hand reach for him. Simon heard a small voice fill the air.

"_Mr. Simon… Why…?_"

Simon awoke with a start. He shot up in his bed, gasping for breaths, and frantically looked around to assure him that he was, indeed, in his own room. His heart pounded in his chest, and he buried his face in his trembling hands, finding that his cheeks were already wet with tears.

"Sh-she's safe," he choked out. "She's safe, Marcy's safe, she's okay…" He kept repeating the words to himself, but still didn't feel reassured. He struggled to calm himself, to steady his breathing, but images from the dream flashed though his mind: the ice, the blood…

Simon felt sick to his stomach, and he wanted to vomit. He tried to push the dream from his mind, but it felt so _real_. But, still, it was only that: a dream. He glanced over to his desk, finding that the golden crown was still sitting on the same corner he last put it. The three rubies that decorated the crown stared back at him. Simon looked down at his hands, imagining them being covered with blood, and he wept bitterly.

After a few minutes, when he finally managed to compose himself, Simon pulled the bed covers off him, and walked over to his desk, where his glasses sat. His shaking fingers fumbled with them a bit, but he managed to get them on. He then opened the door and made his way down the hallway towards Marceline's bedroom. He had to make sure; he had to see with his own eyes that she was okay.

Simon laid his hand on the doorknob and took in a deep breath. He turned the knob, then pushed the door open just enough for him to see that Marceline, indeed, was still in her bed. He let out a sigh of relief. Moving as quietly as he could, he walked over to the bed and looked down at the sleeping child. Watching Marceline sleep so peacefully, her arm wrapped around her teddy bear, Hambo, warmed his heart. He smiled a little, then bent over and kissed her softly on her cheek.

Simon walked out of Marceline's room, shutting the door quietly behind him, and went back down the hallway.

As he entered his room, Simon avoided looking at the crown. Sitting back on his bed, he buried his face in his hands, and let out a heavy sigh. He rubbed his eyes, unsure of what he should do next. Simon hated being alone, with only _it_ to keep him company. He was exhausted, but at the same time he was scared to try to sleep again. Sleep didn't come easy for him these days, and when it did, he often had nightmares.

Simon sat in the dark silence for a few minutes, his brow creased with worry, until he heard a soft voice.

"What's wrong, Simon? You looked troubled."

Simon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He ignored the crown, tried to pretend like he didn't hear it, which he knew was foolish. The crown's voice was inside his head, and nothing he did could block it out. He could sense how annoyed the crown was.

"Do not ignore me, Simon," it whispered. "Just look at you… Look at how _weak _you are!"

"Be quiet," Simon murmured.

"But you're tired of it, aren't you?" the crown mused. "So tired of being weak… You've lost control of everything in your life. The entire world, thrown into such chaos and ruin, has unraveled, and is now completely devoid of all reason and meaning. The world is dead, and so many have died with it. But not you, Simon; you've survived. You've see and heard it all; the bombs, the screams, the flames…" The crown paused, then added, "You remember the burning bodies, don't you, Simon? The _smell_?"

"Shut up!" Simon exclaimed. He dashed toward the crown and grabbed with his hands. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!"

He gripped the crown, his eyes wide with both anger and fear. The room was silent, aside from the sounds of Simon breathing heavily.

Simon could feel the crown's delight; it finally got a response out of him. "This world is out of control," it said, "but you, Simon…_you _can bring order to it! You can control it! You can have it all to yourself! That's what you want, isn't it? Oh, yes… I know it is! I can feel the lust for power burning in your heart!"

Simon shook his head rapidly. "No… N-no, that's not true! I… I don't _want_…"

"Oh, Simon, don't lie!" the crown replied, laughing. "You'd only be lying to yourself! Just think about all you can do; what we're capable of together! I can help you; I can give you the power you crave so much!"

"I don't want anything you can give me!" Simon said, incredulous. "Why would I, after everything you've done to me?! You've given me nothing but pain and misery! _You_…" He shook the crown, fuming. "You drove my Betty away – _you_ did! Now you're trying to do the same thing to Marcy, but I won't let you! Just leave me alone, you hear? I won't let you take me! _I do not belong to you!_"

Simon glared at the crown, daring it to respond. His heart raced, fueling his determination. After a few moments, he heard a low chuckle emanate from the crown, and Simon felt his courage suddenly evaporate.

"Of course you do, silly boy," the crown whispered in a mocking, sickeningly sweet tone. Simon gritted his teeth, and, letting out an enraged yell, hurled the crown away from him. It hit the wall with a loud _thonk_ and landed on the floor. For a fleeting moment he wondered if all the noise woke Marceline up, but he didn't really care.

Simon stared at the crown as it rocked slightly back and forth on the floorboard. He gave a small, satisfied smile, feeling encouraged by this small victory against the detestable thing. That feeling, however, quickly vanished, and he felt an overwhelming sense of shame wash over him. What had he done?! After everything the crown had done for him… It – no, _she _– saved his life, and gave him power beyond anything he could've hoped for! He could've easily perished as countless others did during the war, but she kept him alive. He owed her everything. How could he be so ungrateful?

Simon frantically rushed to the crown, then knelt down and picked it up gingerly, as though it was something precious and delicate.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, cradling her in his arms. "I'm sorry." He kissed her. "I know I was wrong, please forgive me!"

Simon sat on the floor, hugging the crown, his fingers tenderly stroking the cold metal. The crown remained silent; she was still irritated. Simon didn't like it when she was angry with him.

After a moment the crown responded, "You are forgiven," and Simon let out a sigh of relief. He kissed the crown again, and held it to his face. The metal was even colder than his body was, but it still felt soothing…comforting.

"Thank you," he whispered. The crown had always been so patient with him. So understanding. He loved that about her.

"You've come so far, Simon," the crown said, "but there is still so much for you to learn. Don't worry, though; we have time. We have all the time in the world, my darling."

"Yes," Simon said longingly, caressing the crown. He felt at ease. She's taken care of him this whole time, and as long as he had her, everything would be all right. He was certain of that.

As Simon sat holding the crown, he suddenly realized how drained he was. He couldn't remember the last time he wore the crown, and during their time apart he grew weaker. After everything she had given him, he still acted like a petulant child. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart.

The crown seemed to understand Simon's unspoken thoughts. "It's all right. I've missed you, too, my darling," she said soothingly. "Now, be a good boy…"

Simon was happy to oblige. He rotated the crown to where the three gemstones faced forward. As he raised his hands to place the crown on his head, however, he hesitated – but why would he do that? What could possibly be holding him back?

The crown let out a low growl in her impatience. "_Simon_…"

Simon shrugged off any reservation he had, feeling ashamed that he would dare hesitate to accept the crown's gift. Without another thought, he closed his eyes and dropped the crown on his head. He felt the effects of the crown's power almost immediately. Her icy energy coursed through his body. The air around him even felt different. Oddly enough, the intense cold didn't make him shiver. In fact, he noticed, the cold didn't seem to bother him at all. Not anymore. Actually…he rather liked it.

Simon's breath was slow and steady, his breath visible in the cold air. He felt stronger than ever, more superior, and even, dare he say…_regal_. He reveled in it. He heard the crown let out a satisfied sigh as her invisible, icy embrace enveloped him. She seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as he was.

"That's it…" she said tenderly. "Doesn't that feel better?"

Simon nodded in response. He felt whole again. With the crown, he felt so powerful…invincible, even. He loved the feeling.

Suddenly, Simon felt something move past him. He opened his eyes and saw a strange, cloudy shape in front of him. As he stared at it, the cloud morphed into a ghostly human figure – a woman. Simon blinked in confusion. He didn't recognize the face, but there was something about her that felt so…_familiar_. The figure wore glasses, and though she was semi-transparent, he could still make out a faint flash of red in her hair. He thought she was beautiful.

The woman smiled. "Hello, my darling," she said in a voice Simon _did_ recognize. His eyes widened, and a joyful smile spread wide across his face.

"It's you!" he breathed. The crown nodded. She reached over placed her hand over his. Because she wasn't a physical being, Simon couldn't feel her hand as though it were solid flesh, but his hand felt colder than usual at her touch. He felt a shudder run down his spine, but it wasn't because of the cold. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about her face, her smile, that made him desire her.

"Simon…it's just you and me, my darling," the crown said sweetly. "Just think of all the things we can accomplish together! Alone, you're weak, but with me, you can become something great! You can do whatever you want! There's still so much I've yet to show you… So many secrets I want to share with you."

The crown paused, concern on her face. Simon kept his eyes fixated on her, in complete awe.

"Why do you allow yourself to suffer, Simon?" the crown finally continued. "_Why_ do you allow such painful memories to eat away at your soul? It doesn't have to be this way, you know. Wouldn't it be just so much easier to let go of it all… To _forget_? It's foolish to keep resisting me." She smiled. "Just say the word, Simon… _Give yourself to me_…and I'll take away all your pain. I'll make sure you never have to suffer again, my darling. The only thing standing in our way…is the girl."

Simon blinked, confused. _The girl?_ What was the crown talking about? There _was_ no one else; it was just the two of them… That's how it's always been, hasn't it? But, no, that wasn't right; there _was _someone else… Yes, another person…a girl… Oh, who was she, again? Simon's mind raced as he tried to find a face, a name... _Why couldn't he remember her name?_ It started with…an N, no an M… Mary? Macy? No, no, that's not it… It's…it's….

_Marceline._

Simon's eyes widened, and his foggy mind suddenly became clear as he snapped back out of his reverie. His face hardened in defiance as he glared at the crown.

"_No_. Never… Not her, not Marcy!" he said, furious. "Leave her _out _of this, do you hear me?!" Simon balled his hands into fists; his grip was tight enough for his nails to pierce the skin of his palms. He was filled with filled with rage toward the cursed thing. It had even dared to take on the appearance of Betty – _his_ Betty. The crown was making a mockery of him.

"You…you will _not_ harm my little girl!" he growled.

The crown's eyes widened in surprise, then a sly smile spread across its face. "What's this?" it teased. "You actually think of the little demon brat as your own _daughter_?"

"Of course I do," Simon said through his teeth. "Marcy is my family, and I will _not_ let you hurt my family!"

The crown's grin spread wider. It let out a high, cruel laugh.

"Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon…" it said, gleeful. "Silly boy, you _know_ I can't harm her! How can I? No, my darling…" The crown reached out and stroked Simon's cheek tenderly, sending a paralyzing chill down his spine. It lowered its voice to a whisper. "I will leave all that…to _you_."

Simon's heart sank. "NO!" he shouted, jerking away from the crown. He pressed his back into the wall, head shaking frantically. "No, no, no, no, no, no…" Tears welled up in his eyes. His entire body shook. He looked up at the crown, who smirked at him. It took delight in his agony.

"P-please," Simon moaned, "please, I…I beg of you, just leave h-her out of this! You can d-do whatever you want with me, but I – I can't hurt Marcy! I can't… I _won't_! I won't do it! I love her, and I _have_ to protect her!"

The crown continued to smile, looking amused. It moved closer to Simon, who flinched away. The crown let out a giggle at the sight of the pathetic man. It leaned forward so that its face was just inches away from his.

"Protect her?" The crown's voice was a whisper, but it pierced Simon like a dagger. "What exactly are you hoping to protect her from, hmm? The only monster out there who could harm her, dear Simon, is _you_. So, if you _really_ want to protect that child from something… Protect her from _yourself_!"

The crown's voice hung in the air. After a few moments, Simon looked up, tears streaming down his face.

"S-stop," he croaked, but he knew his words were meaningless. "Please, stop! I…I could never…!"

The crown's eyes widened. "Oh, but you _could_!" it said, its voice filled with excitement. "You _know_ you could, Simon! You know it because you've already _seen_ it happen!"

Suddenly, Simon's mind was flooded with images from his dream, and a wave of nausea hit him again. He shut his eyes tightly.

"_No_..." he whispered, sobbing. "God, please, no…" He pressed his hands over his ears, but it was useless; the crown's voice filled his head.

"Just how did you think this would all end, hmm?" the crown said smugly, with an air of authority. "Have you really deluded yourself to believe that the girl could come out from all of this unscathed…that such a miserable, pathetic little man like yourself could ever keep her safe and happy?! No, Simon…you're a fool."

Simon shook his head. "No," he moaned, "I won't hurt her, I won't, I _won't_!" He looked at the crown, imploring it. "Just…just leave me alone, please! Leave me alone…"

The crown's face softened. The mocking expression changed to become softer, more caring. It reached out and placed its hands on Simon's.

"Oh, my dear Simon, don't despair," the crown said soothingly. "Everything will be all right in the end, you'll see! Very soon it'll be just the two of us, for all eternity. That's the way it was always meant to be! But know this…" The crown's face suddenly darkened, its voice more threatening. Its mouth spread wide into a sadistic smile. The crown stared Simon straight in the eye, filling his heart with dread.

"You can keep fighting me all you want, but it is folly. I will never, _ever_ stop… Not until I have you all to myself, my king!"

* * *

Eep. Well, thanks for reading this, everybody! Depending on my schedule, I'll probably have the rest posted in a couple of weeks. In total, this'll be 2-3 chapters long.

If you haven't read my comics about Simon and Marcy, you probably should; this fic is tied in with those. You can check them out on my Tumblr (trojan-rabbit) under the tag 'comic'.

R&R, and all that jazz! Thanks, guys!


	2. Chapter 2

There was a knock on the door. "Mr. Simon?" Pause. Another knock. "Mr. Simon, aren't you awake yet? I'm hungry!" A third knock, now a little louder.

After a moment the door creaked open, and Marceline, wearing a worn t-shirt several sizes too big for her, popped her head in. "It's time to get up, sleepyhead! When are you gonna—"

Her face fell as she opened the door wider and saw what was inside. Simon sat on the floor against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees. The crown sat atop his head, which was bowed. He didn't seem to have heard Marceline calling for him.

Marceline bit her lower lip, her face filled with worry. She stood by the door, unsure of whether she should leave or not. In the past, Simon warned her against touching or talking to him when she saw him with the crown on. He'd hold off as long as he could, but after a couple of days he would be so tired and weak that he _had_ to wear it, at least for a little while. But, when possible, he would make sure to only wear it when she was already asleep, so he wouldn't endanger her.

There were many nights where Marceline would spy Simon in his room, or otherwise alone, with the crown either on his head or cradled in his arms. Sometimes she would hear him sobbing, with his hands gripping his hair. It almost seemed as if the crown was somehow torturing him. Other times, however, Simon seemed completely blissful with the crown, whispering to it lovingly.

It grieved her to see Simon, her only friend, to suffer so much, but she was still careful not to disturb him, lest he lash out in anger at her. By the morning, Simon would seemingly be back to his usual self; he was kind, laughed easily, and would indulge Marceline in whatever game she wanted to play, even when he was tired. _That_ was the Simon she knew and loved. Marceline didn't know how much he remembered about his episodes with the crown, and whatever pain or heartache he still felt he hid from her the best he could.

As the months passed, Simon's outbursts slowly became more and more frequent, often when he wasn't even wearing the crown. But this… There was _something_ different about this. Even Marceline could see that, though she couldn't say why.

She inched closer to Simon, and heard him mutter unintelligible words under his breath. His body twitched. It terrified her to see him like this, and she felt so helpless.

"M-Mr. Simon?" Marceline's voice came out like a squeak. "Can you h-hear me? How…how long have you been wearing the crown? H-have you had it on all night?"

Simon still didn't look up; he didn't appear to have noticed her at all. He continued to murmur, but now Marceline could make a few words such as "frozen" and "my darling". His face was hidden by the long, white curtain of hair. The little girl was filled with fear. To her knowledge, Simon had never worn the crown for more than a couple of hours at a time. If it was true that Simon had been wearing the crown all night… What did that mean? Would he be able to pull himself out of the darkness like he had in the past?

Marceline stood a couple of feet away from Simon. "P-please take the crown off, Mr. Simon," she said in a small voice. "Please, y-you're scaring me! You have to take it off!" Trembling, she hesitantly reached out for him, but when her fingers were close enough to brush his shoulder, she jerked her hand back. She paused for a few moments, but when Simon gave no indication of having acknowledged her, her hand moved forward again. This time, she allowed her hand to gently touch his shoulder. She let out a small gasp. Even through his shirt, his body felt colder than it normally was.

"Mr. Simon?"

All of a sudden, Simon's right hand shot up and grabbed Marceline's forearm. She let out a cry in surprise. His grip was tight, and his icy touch shocked her to the bone. He didn't look up at her, but she could see that his eyes were wide and angry. His lips pulled back, baring his pointed teeth.

"_What – do – you – WANT?!_" he snarled. Marceline opened her mouth to respond, but her voice failed her. Her eyes were wide with fright. She tried to yank her arm back to break his grip, but he was far too strong for her. As he stood up, he squeezed her arm tighter, and she cried out in pain.

"WELL?!"

Marceline looked up, and saw his white eyes bore into her. Rage and hatred were etched into every line of his face. She used her free hand to try to pry his hand off.

"Th-that hurts, M-Mr. Simon!" she exclaimed. "P…please let go—"

"Shut up!" he snapped. "I've had enough of your sniveling and whining, child!"

"She wants to steal me, my darling," a soft voice breathed in Simon's ear. "She's trying to keep us apart, but _you must not let her_!"

"I won't," Simon whispered. He narrowed his eyes at the child. He found her feeble attempts to pull apart from him laughable, but detested the sound of her whimpering. He bent over to where he was eye level with Marceline, and pulled her closer to him.

"You will not take her away from me," Simon said coldly, his face just inches from hers.

Marceline looked puzzled. Before she could stop herself, she asked, "T-take who?"

"My CROWN, you idiot girl!"

She struggled to answer. "I…I don't w-want to take it, Mr. Simon!" she insisted. "Y-you know I wouldn't do that! I just…I just wanted to h-help you!"

Simon let out a laugh. "_Help_ me?!" he spat. "How can you think you can _possibly_ help, huh?! You can't even help yourself!" At this, he released her, only to grab her again on her upper arms, with both hands. Marceline kept squirming, trying to pull away from him.

"P-Please, Mr. Simon," she said shakily. "Please l-let me go. I'll…I'll leave you alone, I promise!"

"Who will help you now, child?" Cruel mockery filled his voice. He laughed again, tightening his grip on her even more. "_Who_? It certainly won't be your dead mother!"

Marceline stared up at Simon, in complete shock. "M-Mr. Simon…"

A wide, manic grin spread across his face. "This entire world is burning," he said, on the verge of hysteria, "but I will put out the flames with my ice, oh yes! Everything will be frozen, and it will be glorious! But you…_you_, child, will _perish_, along with everyone else! This world will be mine, and _you will die_!"

With that, Simon threw Marceline forward, and she landed hard on the floor. She remained laying down for a few moments, her entire body shaking, but she finally managed to pull herself back up. She looked up at Simon, heartbroken, with tears streaking her cheeks. He looked back at her, chuckling, as though they had just taken part in some fun game.

Marceline was terrified; she could barely process what was happening. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. Holding back a sob, she struggled to her feet, and ran out the door without a word.

Simon held his sides, laughing loudly.

"She certainly is a lot of fun, isn't she?" the crown mused, chuckling softly. Simon agreed wholeheartedly.

At that moment, however, a loud _slam_ resonated in the air, startling Simon. His mind felt hazy, and he glanced around him, confused. What just happened, and why was he standing there? His mind raced, trying to remember. The last thing he could remember was…was…

Simon started to panic. His memories were foggy, but he could faintly remember talking to…the crown—

Oh, God, _the crown_. Simon reached his trembling hands up and found he was wearing it. Horror-stricken, he ripped it off his head and threw it to the floor. He felt dread rising inside him. Somehow, he knew something terrible just occurred.

Simon snapped his head up. "_Marcy!_" he gasped. He darted out the door and down the hall, foolishly hoping that Marceline was still in bed and asleep. He reached her door, and found it to be shut. He hesitated, then knocked on the door softly.

"M-Marcy? Sweetie, are you up?" There was no response inside, so, holding in a breath, he opened the door, just wide enough to see the inside. He felt his stomach drop upon seeing that the bed was empty. He swung the door open wider, and frantically ran inside, looking around the room and under the bed.

"No, no, no…" he whispered, panicking. "Marcy?! Marcy, are you in here? Please come out, sweetheart!" He started back for the door, but as he reached the doorknob he heard a soft sob coming from the closet. He jerked his head toward the direction of the sound.

"Marcy?"

Simon knelt in front of the closet, which was shut. "Marcy?" he said again. He waited for an answer, but didn't hear one. He hesitantly reached out for the door.

"Marcy, sweetie, it's all right now. You're safe," he said reassuringly. "I…I'm going to open the door now, okay?"

He then slid open the door, revealing Marceline sitting, crying, in the corner of the closet, her thin arms wrapped around her legs. Immediately, her hands flew up to her face, and she let out a small cry.

"N-NO! I'm sorry! P-please don't h-hurt me!"

Simon stopped, his eyes wide with horror. He suddenly felt sick.

"Oh no, sweetheart, I won't, I promise!" he said gently. "Look, it's just me; I'm back again! I'm not going to hurt you! Marcy, I…I…" He struggled to find the right words. He looked at Marceline, desperate, but she kept her face covered, muffling her sobs. "I don't know what…what I did, but I…I'm so, so sorry! But everything's okay now, sweetheart! I'm—"

Simon's eyes fell to the large bruise on Marceline's arm, peeking out from the sleeve of her shirt. His hand clasped over his mouth as a wail escaped his throat. He backed away from her, and struggled to stand up, his body shaking.

"Oh, oh _no_…" he moaned. "No, no… Th-this can't be… I…I _didn't_… Oh, God, Marcy… I-I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I swear, that wasn't me! You _know_ I'd never—"

Simon desperate words suddenly died in his throat, as memories of the previous night – the crown's words – trickled in his mind._ "__The only monster out there who could harm her, dear Simon, is __you_. So, if you _really_ want to protect that child from something… Protect her from _yourself_!"

"No…" Simon whispered, "no, please…" His eyes filled with tears. "What have I done? How could I ever…"

Marceline finally put down her hands, and looked up at him. He stood facing away from her, hugging himself, with his head hung low. His shoulders shook with each sob.

"Marcy, I'm s-sorry…I'm so sorry," Simon said quietly. "I n-never wanted this. I never…I never meant for this to h-happen. This…what I've done…" He suddenly raised his head, and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He turned his head, and his eyes met with Marceline's as she slowly moved out of the closet. There was a strange look of determination she saw in his face, mingled with the pain he still felt.

"What I've done is inexcusable," he said in a soft, but firm, voice. "I will _not_ let this happen again. I'm sorry I let this go on as long as it did."

With that, he quickly moved out of the door, and walked back to his room. Puzzled, Marceline stood up and followed him.

When she reached Simon's door, Marceline didn't walk inside, or speak. She just stood there, watching him move around the room as he put on his shoes, grabbed his backpack, vest, and suit jacket, and sat them on the bed. He hesitated, then looked down, finding the crown on the floor right behind him. He slowly knelt down and picked it up carefully with both hands. He stared at it, running his fingers slowly over the metal and over the large ruby on the front. The expression on his face was something Marceline couldn't comprehend.

After a moment Simon shook his head slightly, and placed the crown on top of the desk.

"M-Mr. Simon?" Marceline said timidly. Simon flinched at the sound of her voice, then turned to her, blinking confusedly, as if he had only just noticed she was there. "What…what are you doing?"

"I'm leaving," Simon replied stiffly, turning away from her. He grabbed a thin piece of rope from his desk, then used it to tie the crown to his belt. "I can't stay here, Marcy. Please understand."

"Wh-what?" Marceline gasped. "What do you mean? Y-you can't leave! Mr. Simon, you can't leave!" She stood there, helpless, watching Simon gather his few belongings and loading them in his backpack. He avoided her gaze.

"Mr. Simon, stop!" she cried. "I-is this because of what happened? It doesn't hurt that much, I promise! It…it was just an accident! It wasn't your fault!" She moved toward him, and began to tug on his shirttail as he placed a few books in his backpack. "Please don't go, Mr. Simon! I don't want you to go! It'll be okay!"

Simon let out a sigh. "No, Marcy, it _won't_ be okay," he said heavily. "Not while I'm still with you. You can't keep making excuses for me. I'm sorry, but…this is the way it has to be."

"No… P-please…please don't leave me," she begged. "You…you can't just give up! Th-there has to be some way to make you better, Mr. Simon! We can fix you, somehow! We just have to find a—"

Suddenly, Simon slammed his fists on the desk, startling the girl.

"There _is_ no way, Marceline!" he yelled, exasperated. He turned to face her, and she could see the pain and frustration in his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that? Do you honestly think I haven't tried to find a way to fix all this?! The fact is that I'm _never_ going to get better! It's hopeless, that's all there is to it! There's just NO – WAY – OUT!" He hit the table again.

Silence fell between them. Marceline struggled to answer, but she didn't quite know what to say. Finally, she simply whispered, "I…I'm sorry."

Simon took in a deep breath. "No, Marcy, you don't need to apologize," he answered calmly, shaking his head. He looked down at her apologetically, but she averted her eyes. "_I'm_ the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you, sweetie."

"It…it's okay," Marceline responded in a small voice, looking at the floor. After a few moments, she walked out of the room, leaving Simon standing there, hating himself all the more.

When Simon was finished packing, he donned the tattered vest and suit jacket and slung the backpack over his shoulders. The last thing he collected was his photo album, filled with everything he had remaining of his former life, and of Betty. He caressed the worn leather cover tenderly, then held it to his chest.

As he walked into the living room Simon found Marceline sitting on the couch. It was obvious she had been crying again. She didn't look up at him when he approached.

"I'm leaving you with all the water, food, and other supplies, okay, Marcy?" he said. "I'm also giving you the map." He placed the map on the coffee table in front of her. "I'm also giving you this." He held out the photo album toward her. "I want you to have it, so you can have something to remember me by." She gave no response, so he placed it on the table as well.

"I truly am sorry, sweetheart," Simon said in a small voice. "Just…just remember that, and that I love you very much."

Without looking up, Marceline said softly, "Just go away."

Simon felt his heart sink. He couldn't believe that Marceline could be so cold toward him, but, he supposed, it wasn't anything more than he deserved. He gave a small nod, then walked out the front door, his head hung low.

Walking away from the house, Simon's chest felt hollow, and his feet heavy like lead. Then, suddenly—

"MR. SIMON!"

Simon's heart gave a little leap. He stopped, and his head snapped around. He saw Marceline standing on the front stoop, clutching to the photo album, with tears streaming down her face.

"Wait! D-don't go!" she cried. She ran toward Simon, who knelt down, his arms open. Marceline dropped the album and fell into his arms, sobbing hysterically. Simon wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm s-s-sorry, Mr. Simon!" she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Simon hugged the little girl tighter, and despite himself, he felt tears burning in his eyes as well. "Shh, I know. It's okay," he said soothingly, stroking her hair. "It's all right, sweetheart. You don't need to apologize." He kissed the top of her head. After a moment he said, "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry…for everything I've put you through. You deserve someone better than me." Simon felt a lump in his throat. "I…I'm going to need you to be brave for me, okay, Marcy?"

Marceline shook her head against his shoulder. "I d-don't w-wanna hafta be brave!" she said. "I…I wanna be w-with _you_, Mr. Simon! Don't go, please! Don't l-leave me! I love you!"

Simon's heart ached. Hearing the little girl's pleas was almost unbearable for him. "I know, sweetie, I know," he replied. "I love you, too. I love you with all of my heart. That's why…" Simon shut his eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears. He pulled back from her, and looked straight at her face. "That's why I…I _have_ to leave." He wiped away her tears with his thumb. "You understand, don't you? I…I'm too dangerous for you to be around, Marcy."

Marceline looked down at the ground, biting her lower lip. "Will…will I ever s-see you again?" she asked hesitantly.

Simon hesitated, unsure of how to respond. In his heart, he knew the answer, but he couldn't bear to say it aloud. He was silent for a few moments, but finally reached out for her hands, and held them in his own.

"I…I don't know," he replied, numbly. "But, for your sake…I hope not. I can't guarantee your safety, Marcy. What happened earlier…what I _did_ to you…was absolutely unforgiveable. It can never, _ever_ happen again. It shouldn't have happened at all! I shouldn't have let things get as far as they did." He glanced at the bruises on Marceline's arms, and felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

Marceline was silent for a few moments, but then she bent down and picked up the photo album. "Here, Mr. Simon," she said softly, offering it out to him. "I…I want you to have this."

Simon stared at her, bewildered. "But…why?" he asked. "I gave it to you, Marcy. I want you to have it."

"I know," she replied, averting her eyes. "But…I think y-you…need it more than me. I…I already know that I'll never forget you." The album shook in her hands, and Simon saw fresh tears run down her cheeks. He was at a loss for words. _How…?_

Slowly, Marceline turned her head up to look at him again, and as Simon looked in her bright red eyes, it dawned on him that somehow…she _understood_.

"Marcy…" he murmured, taking the album. He sighed as he set it back down beside him. He couldn't say it aloud, but there was a part of him that was glad to have it back. He looked back at Marceline, and reached his hand up to brush her hair out of her eyes. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her arm.

"Sweetheart, I want you to listen to me very carefully," Simon said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I want you to always remember…how much I love you." He brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "You can never, ever forget that, okay? I love you so, so much, and I always will, even when—" Simon suddenly choked up. He cleared his throat, then continued. "Even…when I forget that I do. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Marceline nodded, then leaned back in to hug him again.

After a while Simon finally broke the hug and pulled away from Marceline. He kissed her on the forehead, and forced a smile.

"Take care, Marcy," he said, holding her small hands in his. "I love you."

Marceline managed to smile back. "I love you too, Mr. Simon," she replied. "Take care."

Simon's smile faltered. A small crease formed on his brow as he gave a small nod. "I will," he lied.

At last, Simon rose to his feet, one hand still clinging to hers, the other hand picking up the album. As he turned away from Marceline, he gave her hand one last squeeze, knowing it would be the last warm thing he would ever hold.

Simon forced his legs to keep moving, as far from Marceline as he could go. He didn't dare look behind at her, to get one last look at her. If he did, he knew he'd instinctively run back to her. He couldn't allow himself to do that.

The forest was eerily silent, save for the sound the crown bouncing off his side as he walked, and the dried leaves and twigs crunching beneath Simon's feet. _It'll be winter soon_, he thought with dread, tears forming in his eyes.

"But you love it when it snows, my king," the crown cooed in his head.

Eventually, Simon couldn't hold himself together any longer. His legs gave out from under him, and he fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. In his heart he knew he made the right decision, that this was the best way he could keep Marceline safe, but that didn't ease his anguish.

"P…please…" he moaned, praying to whoever was listening, "please…protect her, protect my daughter. L-let her be safe and h-happy, please! I don't…I don't care what happens to me a-anymore. Just keep her safe, please…please…"

Simon was completely broken…lost. He never felt so terrified, but now his fear was more for the little girl he left behind than it was for himself.

"Shh, shh… It'll be alright," the crown soothed. "Everything's going to be just fine, you'll see. I'm here, remember? I'll always be with you, my king."

Simon sniffed. In spite of himself, he asked, "Y-you promise?"

"Of course!" she said sweetly. "I'll make everything right. I'm going to take care of you. You'll be just fine."

He didn't answer out loud, but suddenly Simon felt his heart lift. He dried his eyes, a smile forming on his face. She was right. Somehow, he knew that everything _would_ turn out okay. The king had his crown, and that's all he needed. They would always be together, just as they always had been. That's the way it was meant to be, after all. It was an encouraging thought.

* * *

Thanks for support I've gotten from the little fic, guys! I really appreciate it. It was definitely fun to write. Now, obviously, since the release of 'Simon and Marcy', it's obvious that NONE of this is in any way canon, so, if you want, you could just say this story takes place in an AU. Or something.

R&R!


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